Alone at Last
by tenderlovingwrackspurts
Summary: After the explosive start to their relationship during the Battle of Hogwarts, things cool down a little for Ron and Hermione in the aftermath. She starts to wonder, was it all in her head? She books them an evening in the Leaky Cauldron to find out... This is Potterotica, so please use reader discretion due to the explicit smutty content - albeit tender, consenting and romantic!


Alone at Last

Hermione lay still in the inky blackness, facing away from Ron and hardly daring to breathe. She replayed the evening in her mind, analysing the events - how could it have gone so wrong? Her meticulous planning usually meant she felt in control of her own destiny, but with Ron something was different. It was supposed to be a really special night. She'd booked a table and a room at the Leaky Cauldron as an opportunity – the first time they'd been alone since the Battle. She'd wanted to make sure that the passion they'd felt in the midst of war was real, and not just a temporary side effect of the mortal peril. It had been hard to give their relationship much thought in the aftermath back at the Burrow – their stolen moments were stifled by Mrs Weasley's tears, George's constant need for distraction, or trips to the resurrected Ministry with Mr Weasley.

They'd arrived, eaten, made conversation and walked to the room. Ron's expression had remained as stony as a gargoyle throughout. Not once did he seem to concede that he even remembered their tender interactions two months previously. His demeanour had been purely platonic, even a little cold. They'd played a torturously awkward game of wizarding chess to pass the rest of the evening, privately changed into pyjamas in the pokey little bathroom, and then gotten into opposite sides of the creaking four-poster.

A single tear ran sideways down Hermione's face as she came to a realisation – she couldn't study how to make him happy. There was no well-worn textbook that she could dust off and pore over that could tell her how to ensure the man she was so irrevocably in love with felt the same way. She stifled a sob, desperate not to wake him and face another conversation that would convince her she'd obviously misread the signals.

She steeled herself, wiped her face and gingerly lifted off the mattress a little to turn over in the small, rickety bed. She would just stop worrying and go to sleep. She could pack her beaded bag in the morning and head back to her now-empty home to regroup.

As she quietly settled her head back on to the pillow, she heard a low whisper in the darkness.

"It's okay, I can't sleep either, as it goes".

"No?" said Hermione, trying to keep her voice steady, "I'm sorry if I've kept you up, I'm not used to having someone next to me."

"Oh, it's not that," Ron said obscurely. "I just keep thinking."

"About what?"

"Well," Ron shifted a little, and Hermione could sense his discomfort, "I think I've ruined everything, haven't I?"

Hermione paused for a second.

"No. Not for me anyway. We can still write, and we'll be great friends. I think Harry will be extending invitations as soon as he settles in at Grimmauld Place, so we'll still see each other."

Ron's voice went even quieter,

"It won't be enough. For me, I mean. That wouldn't be often enough."

"But earlier, you seemed so…" Hermione trailed off.

"I know how I seemed. I shouldn't have. Bloody hell, it's all just so messed up. Losing Fred and all the others, it's screwing with my head. But I don't want to lose you too."

"You won't lose me," said Hermione, "Think about everything we've been through together- it's made us even better friends."

"Is that what you want?" asked Ron plainly, "Friends?"

She hesitated. He interjected,

"Will you let me show you what I want?"

Hermione nodded, but she wasn't sure if Ron could see it. Suddenly she knew he could - his hand had slid gently across the sheet and come to rest on the curve of her slender waist. He nudged closer, stopping when their noses were touching and Hermione could feel his breath on her lips. He murmured bashfully,

"I've wanted this for so long. Longer than I can remember…"

And then he kissed her. It was deep, fiery and full of desire. They hadn't kissed like this since that desperate night in the Chamber of Secrets. Just as it had back then, Hermione's stomach filled with butterflies and her skin surged with electric charge. She knew in that moment that she'd been right all along – he hadn't been standoffish earlier that evening, he'd been sad and conflicted and full of a passion he couldn't comprehend at the same time as grief. It took all her concentration not to break the kiss with a stupidly wide grin. She exhaled, and felt her body relax into Ron's.

Suddenly Ron broke away, turned himself over and groped in the darkness for his jacket – messily folded on the nightstand. Hermione was momentarily bemused. He couldn't possibly be leaving now? Her fear was assuaged as she realised he wasn't picking it up to leave, but rather turning out its tatty pockets, searching for something. A faint 'click', and a small, warm glow of light travelled smoothly past her cheek, softly illuminating the lamp in the corner of the room. Ron carefully replaced the deluminator and rolled back towards Hermione, his face now visible to her.

"I just wanted to, um, see, you know? I mean, it's you, it's finally you, and I just wanted to be sure… um… wasn't dreaming," He clumsily brushed her cheek with his knuckle and blushed violently as he did so, his ears reddening to match his hair.

"It's much better," agreed Hermione quietly, positioning herself closer. She was so nervous – she could feel herself shaking a little as she pressed into his warm frame. She let her breasts lightly rest against his chest through the fabric of her top and she heard Ron inhale a little, acutely aware he'd never felt that sensation with her before. She slid her hand under his t-shirt, helping him to pull it up over his head and exposing his bare torso. Their year out pursuing the Hallows, roughing it against the unpredictable British elements had done wonders for Ron's physique – his lanky teen stature had been replaced by a lean, defined musculature.

He placed one hand down on the mattress behind her and used it to carefully roll himself on top of Hermione, gently manoeuvring her on to her back with his other hand at her hip. He leant down towards her, his red hair flopping forwards, and their lips met again. She had the most gorgeous scent – an intoxicating mix of jasmine, fresh parchment and spearmint. He breathed her in as they continued to kiss – the intensity building as they yielded to each other.

Ron drew slowly back, breaking the embrace. He hesitated, nervous to meet her gaze. Hermione delicately placed her fingertips under his chin and lifted it up until their eyes locked.

"I love you. I want this as much as you do," she told him simply.

This confirmation seemed to ignite a fire behind Ron's pale blue eyes. He moaned softly and moved his head down until it was level with the waistband of her cotton shorts. He laid a hand against her stomach and caressed upwards, letting the fabric of her t-shirt bunch up on top of it. Hermione grasped the garment and pulled it off, letting Ron see her perfectly round breasts for the first time. Ron was stopped in his tracks – her beautiful body was all he'd imagined and more. He could feel warmth spreading down his torso to his groin - he knew he was quickly hardening for her. He impulsively began to kiss her soft skin, starting underneath her ribs and working slowly down her flat stomach, past her navel and eventually coming to rest level with her hip bones. He paused, listening to Hermione's breath becoming ragged with anticipation.

"… _. And I don't know how Tom expects me to clean the seventh floor without a scouring potion…. Did you know there was a part-troll up there last week? … Stinking… Foul…"_

The unmistakable drone of the pub's cleaning witch accompanied thudding footsteps up the corridor, right past the door to Ron and Hermione's room. Ron sighed in exasperation, closing his eyes and letting his forehead press against Hermione's belly. Hermione chuckled softly,

"I honestly thought tonight would have been peace at last. Just give me a moment…"

She wriggled out from underneath Ron, stood up and padded over to the door frame; wand in hand and still naked from the waist up.

" _Cave inimicum… Muffliato… Protego Totalum…"_ murmured Hermione, casting a wave of protective enchantments that spread slowly out from her wand tip, seeming to engulf the wooden door in a shimmering silvery haze. She turned on the spot, walked carefully across to the window and repeated her actions. Ron sat on the edge of the bed, watching Hermione's graceful form as she moved – admiring her magnificent wand-work and stunning figure in the moonlight.

As Hermione completed her last spell, she felt Ron appear behind her – his hands on her waist and his warm breath on the nape of her neck. Complete, golden silence had fallen in the room.

"You're amazing, Hermione, you know that?"

"Always the tone of surprise…" was the well-versed response.

It was Ron's turn to chuckle quietly. He gathered Hermione's long, wavy hair and swept it over her shoulder, revealing the pale side of her neck and throat for him to lean around and kiss. Hermione smiled and relaxed at his touch. His hands slid south from her waist to the top of her shorts and underwear, inching them down over her hips and letting them both fall to the floor. He caressed the rounded curves of her bottom, then edged one hand around her hip and down between her thighs.

Hermione let out a sigh of pleasure, feeling slightly weak at the knees. She leaned backwards a fraction into Ron, letting his frame support her as he started to gently stroke her clitoris. She flushed a little, realising she could feel his hard penis pressing against the small of her back. Ron was working on instinct alone at this point – of course, he'd fantasized about what it would be like to bring Hermione to a climax, but this was the first opportunity he'd had to let his dreams play out. He fervently hoped he was massaging the right spot and felt confident he probably was, given that she'd started to moan his name. He wanted to make sure that she felt thoroughly indulged before he joined in, so he patiently and rhythmically persisted, quietly proud that it was his fingers that were making this beautiful woman pant and shudder.

Suddenly Hermione bent forwards, gripping the windowsill and tilting her pelvis back to expose her wet vagina to him. Ron fumbled with his underwear, unable to peel his eyes away from her. He pulled them down and off, and as he did so, his now-pulsing erection sprang upwards. He took it in one hand and guided it towards her, inserting the tip of his shaft inside. He felt an instant rush; warmth spreading all over his body and making him tingle. He grasped Hermione's hips and used the leverage to slowly push his length tightly into her – but stopped abruptly when he heard her whimper and saw her knuckles whiten on the ledge.

"You okay? Do you want me to stop?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"No, please don't stop. Keep going, I'm okay, I promise," she said breathlessly. Hermione's initial discomfort had faded quickly, leaving her with a full feeling that was actually quite satisfying.

Ron began to fuck her, purposefully not allowing himself to thrust as hard as he suspected he could if he let go completely – he was aware his pretty substantial length was probably a bit of a challenge. Still, even at this pace, it was immensely pleasurable. They moved in harmony together, their quickening breaths synchronising as they let go of their inhibitions and marvelled at the fantastic sensation. Hermione was the first to orgasm - her body shaking as she exclaimed loudly, blood rushing to her head as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Ron was not far behind, steeling himself and groaning as he felt himself ejaculate forcefully. He withdrew and Hermione turned to face him.

They looked up at each other, both shaking and trying desperately to conceal the enormous grins spreading on their faces. Hermione placed her palm on Ron's hot cheek and stretched up on tiptoes to kiss him tenderly on the mouth. They stood intertwined for a moment, noses touching, taking long deep breaths and savouring the perfect moment. Ron smiled wryly and whispered,

"Magic…"


End file.
